


Always

by HumanError



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Carer John, Caring Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mourning John, POV Sherlock Holmes, Poor John, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 10:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3526430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumanError/pseuds/HumanError
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They think everything's going to be fucking okay." John slurred, a glass bottle of alcohol between his fingers. He was slumped against his bedroom wall, head lolling to the side as he muttered through his words. I kneeled in front of him, one hand resting on his kneecap, the other enclosed around the bloody knuckles that he had just slammed into the mirror.</p><p>"They're acting like nothing's fucking happened. How could they do that?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always

"They think everything's going to be fucking okay." John slurred, a glass bottle of alcohol between his fingers. He was slumped against his bedroom wall, head lolling to the side as he muttered through his words. I kneeled in front of him, one hand resting on his kneecap, the other enclosed around the bloody knuckles that he had just slammed into the mirror.

"They're acting like nothing's fucking happened. How could they do that?" The boy in front of me took a swig of the alcohol, grimacing as the liquid travelled down his throat. There was an anger to his voice that I had not heard before. "They treated her like utter shit when she was here and-"

An enormous sob escaped John's lips before he could finish his sentence, and he turned from infuriated to utterly pained in an instant. "She's dead and they don't care, Sherlock. They don't fucking care."

I held him as he started to cry, pulling him in close so he was pressed against my chest. The sound of glass shattering interrupted his cries as he let it crash to the floor. The feeling of a light pressure was felt on my back as John wrapped his arms around me, his left (uninjured) hand gripping tightly into my black shirt.

After around five minutes of me embracing John, allowing him to free his emotions, his sobs eventually subsided and he pulled his head back slightly, although, he kept his arms wrapped tightly around myself. Gorgeous blue eyes glanced up at me, red rimmed and glassy from the tears that he was no longer allowing himself to shed.

Sympathy flooded through me as I met his eyes with my own. They looked so sad, so hurt. He didn't deserve the pain that he was suffering, my sweet, amazing John. Seeing him in so much emotional agony was torturous. Knowing that I could do nothing to help him made the pain all the more real.

"John, I cannot tell you that this will get better. I cannot tell you what you want to hear because there's nothing that can be done." His lower lip trembled as I spoke to him.

Lowering my hand, I carefully clasped John's swollen hand in my own, delicately caressing his tender skin with my thumb. I lifted his hand, pressing a gentle kiss onto each individual fingertip as a reassurance, a promise.

"I need my Mum." John whispered as he stared at my lips, watching each second go by as they brushed against his bruises. "I need her."

John." My boyfriend peered upwards, his eyes meeting mine once again. Wet eyelashes clung to the blotchy skin from where he had been crying. He looked at me and bowed his head slightly.

"She would have been so proud of you." John pressed his eyes together, an attempt to stop the tears from spilling over again. 

"In fact I definitely know that she was." I carded my hand through John's blonde hair, an attempt to try and comfort him. "John, do you remember last Wednesday? You called me and asked me to come over because you had been awake all night looking after your mother and Harry and your father hadn't returned." As he sniffed, John nodded once.

"You looked relieved to see me. When I looked at you I saw how knackered you were, how stressed. So I told you to get some rest and that I'd watch your mum for a while." Again, John nodded.

"So I did. When she woke again and saw me, her face lit up and she smiled at me and she told me that she was pleased to see me. And she stayed up for half an hour, saying that she was pleased her baby boy had found someone to love. 

"She looked genuinely happy, John. And that's because of you. And if that wasn't enough, she then told me that she was grateful that she had such a caring son who would look after her. She told me that she was proud of you."

I manoeuvred myself into a crouching position and held out my hands for John, waiting for him to hold onto them. When he did, I noticed the corner of his lip twitch upwards into what could only be described as a smile. Not a very big one, but a smile nonetheless.

Leaning forward, I pressed a gentle kiss to John's lips, touching mine to his for only a few seconds. Once we had parted, I guided him towards his bed and we laid down together on top of the duvet, his hand in mine.

 Turning on our sides we faced each other, our hands still intertwined between us. "Get some rest, John." I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. John looked at me and shook his head slightly.

"You need some sleep."

"I can't." He replied, his voice laced with a pain that I myself had never experienced. I could see him trying to hold back some more tears but without success. Lifting my arm up, I used my free hand to brush away one of the droplets of water using my thumb and pulled him close to me so his head was resting underneath my chin.

He silently cried beneath me, his whole body shuddering as he released sob upon sob upon sob. "I'm being so fucking pathetic." John muttered, pounding his fist into the mattress. I knew that he struggled with expressing himself, that he always tried to put on a brave face for his mother.

I tightened my grip on him and tugged him closer so our chests were touching. His jaw clenched together tightly to try and calm himself down.

"Don't say that, John. Don't you dare say that." His breath came out in harsh shudders against my throat and I could tell that he was beginning to get frustrated with himself. "You are mourning the loss of the most influential person in your life. You are seventeen years old and have had to care for your mum for years without the help of your father and sister because they have always been too drunk to think rationally. They are the pathetic ones John, not you."

"It hurts so much, Sherlock. I tried to prepare myself for this but it just hurts so bloody much."

I planted a kiss to the top of his head before I began speaking again. "It's going to take time. You've always spent time in your mum's company and you've always looked after her for as long as you can remember. Nothing's going to stop the pain you're experiencing hurt any less. But you will adjust to this. And I can promise you that I will support you every step of the way."

John was silent for a while, taking in everything I had said. Eventually he spoke, his voice quiet and muffled. "I'm so grateful that I have you, do you know that Sherlock?" He seemed to already know my answer as I felt him snuggle closer to me and press his lips to my clavicle.

It didn't take long before we both eventually fell asleep, wrapped in each other's arms. I would always support him. Always.


End file.
